About A Girl
by smile.lovato
Summary: "I'm not going to waste these words about a girl". It wasn't like I even knew her anyway. We weren't friends. We never talked. She was just this girl that was in my sixth period class. A girl that I would occasionally stare at from time to time... AU. Demena. Selena/Demi. Changed last names.
1. Enter Demetria

**Give it a go if you want. Changed last names (unfortunately...I really did want to keep the legal last names :/)**

**Apologies for any typos.**

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**Chapter 1: Enter Demetria. Goddess, Nymph, Divine...among other things.**

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There's always that moment in life that you're thankful for, and of course there are those moments you wish never happened. Finding the difference between the two can be a total bitch. And of course sometimes it could lead to a series of unfortunate events (pun not intended by the way), or perhaps it can create that cheesy happily ever after (in which case, please teach me your ways).

You never really know when these "moments" will grace you with its lovely presence. I hope you can sense the sarcasm. It could be today, tomorrow, or maybe it just slipped right through from under your nose you oblivious idiot.

But for me (you know, since this story _is_ about me), it all started the day I was rudely awakened from my _slumber_ on a Tuesday afternoon. My mother had pulled the sheets off of me and complained to my half conscious self the importance of starting a productive day. The first of which being: _not_ waking up in the afternoon. Considering I had already failed at that, I attempted to roll back into bed. Unfortunately she anticipated my move and tickled my foot. The only one exposed after a fest of tossing and turning in bed.

Before I managed to groggily demand she leave my room, or kick her at the very least, she was dragging me out of bed and shoving a shopping list in my hands. Orders and threats were heard. Something about no time and guests and grocery shopping. Whatever.

To say I was angry was an understatement as I slammed the car door glaring at everyone and everything within a five foot radius in that supermarket parking lot.

I hated a lot of things. Being woken up early. Driving. Zucchini. Boys in snapbacks. I was a sarcastic little shit most of the time. Ninety percent of the time. The other ten percent was the unfortunate awkwardness that managed to take over completely whenever certain people were near me. Or rather, one person in particular. The point was I hated things.

I hated grocery shopping specifically. I absolutely loathed every aspect of it. Finding parking, grabbing a germ-filled shopping basket that's been baking out in the sun all day, realizing the damn employees haven't stocked the sanitizing wipes for said shopping basket, kids throwing tantrums and parents bribing them with candy that they'll end up putting back on the shelf once they were at the cash registers. But the thing I hated about grocery shopping the most – or shopping in general – was the small chance of bumping into someone you knew.

I realize that seeing someone was kind of unavoidable, but I had an annoying knack of unintentionally putting the mortifying spotlight on myself.

I groaned, pushing the shopping basket with my forearms as I dragged myself through the produce section, nearly running into customers in the process. They glared naturally, and I looked down at my list sheepishly. I wasn't the best people person.

I studied the list, noticing irritably how unspecific things were. Because I was supposed to know all the trades of cooking and things! Please, I could barely manage to heat things up in the microwave properly.

I sighed, shoving the list into my purse as I parked the basket.

I didn't understand my mom. She complained about the neighbors, yet routinely tried to invite them over for dinner. Not that I'm completely objecting. My best friends were my neighbors – well at least one of them. But that was a whole different story.

I didn't ask for a whole lot in life. Especially during this particular summer. I was happy wallowing away in my room while two of said best friends spent most of their time making out instead of hanging out with me. I was fine with it. Totally completely fine. I knew what to expect with this lonely summer. But unfortunately life had an uncanny tendency to just screw me over at the most inopportune moments. Much like this instance.

I was in the middle of tearing off one of those plastic bags from the roll (and let me tell you how annoying it is when you ruin the bag by ripping just below the perforated seam), when I spotted something that immediately made my heart stop. It wasn't like how it was in the movies. I wasn't overcome with an angry blush, okay well I was. But the movies don't tell you how the blood drains out of your face or how you feel like collapsing on the floor and they don't emphasize enough on the urge of wanting to be invisible. There was nothing, absolutely _nothing_ more (not even concert tickets) I wanted than just disappear, poof away from the spot I was rooted too. And coincidentally I was rooted right next to the ginger roots (no pun intended).

There standing beside the oranges was none other than the cause of my resentment towards grocery shopping – _her_.

Okay, I mean, that was sort of an exaggeration. It wasn't like I hated _her_, on the contrary, quite the opposite. But seeing her in the flesh, inspecting an orange, just represented my whole paranoia of seeing a familiar face in public. Very familiar face indeed.

Her name was Demi Torres. Short for Demetria Torres. Personally I always felt that was an incredibly kinky name. Like can't you just picture some hot girl into bondage and…well, I digress.

Let me back up. It wasn't like I knew her. It was more like I knew _of_ her. We weren't friends. We never talked. She was just this girl that was in my sixth period drama class. A girl that I would occasionally stare at from time to time…_most_ of the time. Well, actually _all_ of the time if we were getting technical. And before you comment on the pathetic act of 'moon-eyed' gazing, I'll have you know that I was extremely subtle in this secret indulgence. Key word: secret.

I wasn't exactly ready to broadcast the fact that I would stupidly stare at a _girl_. It wasn't like I ever liked her or anything. I mean…well, I kind of did but not to the point that explained the fluttering panic within my stomach as I darted down the nearest aisle away from her line of sight.

The freezers.

I felt a chill ghosting up my arms and I knew it had nothing to do with the frozen goods. This was bad. Beyond just bad. It was…freaking bad. My eyes glanced towards the nearest fridge door, frantically taking in my messy attire. Of all people I could have possible seen at the freaking store it had to be her – Demi freaking Torres.

_Jesus Selena you couldn't have dressed decently for once?!_

I tripped over my old flipflops, attempting to fix the horrendous, poor excuse of a bun (and trust me I know what a freaking messy bun looks like, and I can guarantee you my hair did not even measure up to that). I tried straightening my sleep worn clothes hurriedly – a graduating class t-shirt from middle school that had holes in the armpits (which honestly I really don't understand of all places why there?), and a pair of faded, frayed shorts that did a _wonderful_ job of showing off the small stubble sprinkled across my legs from two days of shaving neglect.

And maybe you're asking_, oh Selena why have you let yourself go_? My answer is simple: _summer_. It was a period of time spent lounging around the house, stuffing my face with the most unhealthiest snack foods, wallowing away in the heat, staying up at all hours of the morning blogging about _Game of Thrones_ and how Justin Bieber could suck my nonexistent dick (well, not really). I didn't have time for little trivial things like going out, _partying_, or going to the damn grocery store to run into the girl you pathetically drooled after. It was something my mother had a hard time understanding. She still managed to have that same incredulous look every time she prodded me awake at two in the afternoon. Clearly today was no exception. I should have expected it. She had been developing a nasty habit of making me do her errands ever since I got my driver's license.

I let out a strangled groan, close to banging my head repeatedly against the basket handle.

I had to get out of here. I had to disappear from this godforsaken supermarket. I had to abandon what little groceries I had (I noticed fleetingly that I had none). _And_ I had to make a run for the store exit.

I grabbed my purse. This could work. This could totally work. This could definitely –

"_Owww_!"

"Sorry I…" The words drained from my mouth as I looked up. Again, with the whole life screwing me over thing. Demi Torres stood right before me rubbing her forehead.

_Her._

I was frozen for a moment – an irritatingly _long_ moment. And I couldn't help the automatic, reflexive scan over. I took in the tousled, wavy brown hair that fell a little past her shoulders and the bangs that touched her eyebrows. And the Ray Bans that rested on top of said hair. Her face was free of the usual heavy make-up she wore to school, and for the first time I got a clear view of the freckles across her cheeks. I didn't even know she _had_ freckles. This was the closest I had ever been to the girl. It was almost too much for me to take in. My eyes were in visual euphoria. But then I finally met her gaze.

She stared back at me expectantly, probably waiting for the completion of my lame excuse of an apology. But I had absolutely nothing. All I could manage to do was continue to stare and even that was beginning to prove to be a troubling feat. Her eyes were just so goddamn brown and warm and –

"It's cool." She said nonchalantly after a few seconds of awkward silence (clearly on my part). "I wasn't paying attention." She smiled crookedly, and suddenly the only thing I could process was the little curve of her mouth.

_Crap, stop staring you freak._

I swallowed thickly, looking away hastily. From my peripheral vision I noticed her peer over her shoulder. I took advantage of her averted eyes and let my own travel back to her again. I swallowed again, eyes drifting over her outfit. It was one that was more appropriate for awkward run ins at the grocery store compared to mine, I thought chagrined. A black _Paramore_ croptop, short studded denim shorts, and brown flip flops (obviously not purchased for a dollar at Wal-mart like my own pair). Even her feet were perfect, I sighed, staring at the purple painted toenails.

I returned my attention to her eyes, only to notice that she was staring at me…embarrassingly enough. I could've banged my head against the nearest fridge door.

Her eyes then trailed over me, and I suddenly felt extremely self-conscious. Her brown eyes squinted in my direction when she met my gaze again. Her lips pursed as she continued to stare at me thoughtfully. I was tempted to say something. Perhaps bring up the fact that we both took drama last year. Not that she would've noticed me all that much, she was part of a different clique in the class. The actors. I was usually off to the side repainting flats, with the other crew members. It didn't help that I kept to myself most of the time. It wasn't that I was shy, it was more of being shy around…_her_.

"I know you," she spoke rapidly, hitting the handle of my basket suddenly.

Apparently she _did_ notice me. The fluttering in my stomach was incessant…and annoying. But I didn't think it was quite as annoying as the relentless blush forming across my cheeks. Reflexively, I felt myself touch the side of my face, which only confirmed my assumption. Burning hot.

_Can you act like a normal teenager just this once Selena Jesus Christ –_

"Yeah, yeah you're Selena, right?"

I felt my eyes widen in surprise, and the next thing that came out of my mouth was a cross between a strangled cry and a laugh.

Demi's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What?"

If it were possible, my face had turned an ugly shade of magenta. You'd think being in the frozen foods aisle, it would prevent my rising temperature. Demi reached over and placed a hand over mine…. And apparently, the chilliness of this aisle was completely irrelevant.

"You okay?" She questioned worriedly.

I stepped back automatically the moment I felt her touch me. And honestly it wasn't that much of a touch. Really, it was only her fingertips brushing against the back of my hand, but it still left me a crippling mess tripping over my own feet.

"Er, yes, sorry, um my name is Selena."

"I _know_," Demi laughed, leaning back against the basket. "You were in my drama class." _Oh god_.

"Um…yes."

"Yeah, I remember your project last semester. That skit was hilarious!" Demi exclaimed, startling me for a moment because then she started laughing unabashedly. It was one of those annoying, loud, obnoxious laughs. And I could tell other people had noticed because a few customers had turned to regard us with annoyance. But I was swooning. I knew it. I could see the stupid grin on my face in the fridge reflection over her head.

"Thanks." I mumbled. Good. Progress, no stuttering.

"It was my favorite one. That one scene where you had that epic fight with Taylor was literally like the funniest thing ever." Her laugh fell into a small giggle.

…And apparently she knew my friends as well.

"We should hang out sometime." Demi said suddenly, nearly making my mouth fall open. I had enough sense to grit my teeth to prevent that from happening, but I had an eerie feeling I looked constipated instead of surprised.

"Y-yeah sure." I managed to stutter. Damn it back with the stuttering.

"Hold on a sec" she muttered, reaching into her bag. I watched her rifle through it, curious…and slightly delirious because I was one second away from pinching myself. "Ah, here we go." She said, pulling out a black Sharpie. "Uhh, you don't have like a piece of paper, do you?" At my silence, she sighed. "It's okay, give me your hand."

Before I gave a response, she reached forward and grabbed the one dangling limply at my side. She flipped over my hand, palm facing up and uncapped the marker with her mouth. "I'm sorry if this doesn't come off right away." She said through the cap between her teeth, as she held my hand in hers and began scribbling on my palm. My heart was pounding and her grip was tightening.

I watched numbly as she wrote her number on my hand. I would have suggested just typing in her number in my phone. But there was something exhilarating watching her concentrate on my hand. And god were her hands warm.

She recapped the marker and stared down at her handiwork.

"Well, see you around then Selena." She smiled, and I tried not to focus too hard on the curl of her lips.

Then I heard her utter the two words that would _undoubtedly_ (whether I liked it or not) change the rest of summer vacation: "_Call me_."

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	2. Such Eyebrow Game

**Merry Christmas! If you don't celebrate Christmas...Happy Tuesday!**

**Apologies for any typos!**

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**Chapter 2: Such Eyebrow Game**

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I didn't know how exactly I made it home in one piece honestly. I drove with one hand on the wheel, and the other laying on my lap…burning relentlessly. Occasionally I would stare down at the number in amazement, completely forgetting about the traffic. I got honked at three times before I arrived home.

My mom stared at me weirdly and complained about the lack of groceries (I just kind of left them in the car). I didn't say a word as I practically skipped up the stairs and into my room. Previous thoughts of sleeping again evaded me; my heart was on overdrive and I couldn't stop replaying the event at the grocery store.

I glanced back down at my hand, trembling as I finally crawled back into my unmade bed. She had messy handwriting. I couldn't tell if some of the numbers were eights or threes. But it didn't matter, it didn't change the fact that this miraculous event had happened. It didn't change the fact that it was her writing, her physical personal scribble etched onto my very skin. I was marked physically and metaphorically.

I snorted to myself at the cheesiness of that thought. But I couldn't exactly disagree with it. I was enamored with Demetria Torres, and it showed. God did it show. I giggled to myself and squirmed about like an embarrassing idiot, tangling myself up in the sheets. Her smile was burning into my mind. The little curve – that little curve her lips did at the corners was going to be the death of me.

In the middle of my ridiculous fit of joy, a startling thought hit me.

_What if she could see it – my little – dare I say it – crush?_

I wrinkled my nose in distaste. _A crush_. I despised the word (something else I could add to the never-ending list of things I hated). It didn't even feel like the term came close to the little fluttering feeling in my chest when I thought of Demi Torres. It seemed like a meager description. It lacked the depth behind it. This was a girl I would sigh and swoon over for nearly year. She was probably one of the only constants in my high school life – in the whole love life department (or lack of). It wasn't like I went around to everyone claiming I had a crush on them.

Yet, saying I had a _crush_ on Demi Torres was an exaggeration, something that surpassed the weight of what I was feeling. I didn't even _know_ the girl! And I wasn't okay to personally say I only liked her because of the way she looked. It wasn't true. I mean, Demi was gorgeous but even she had her flaws. Flaws that clearly would be apparent to me if my image of her had not been biased. Because honestly there was nothing wrong with her.

And there was _everything_ wrong with me.

I looked back down at the number on my hand suddenly feeling my spirits deflate like a popped balloon. What if this was a bad idea? What if she wasn't… _like that_?

Not that _I_ was – _like that_ – I just _liked_ her…

Deep down, I knew that was a crap excuse. I never felt entirely comfortable with the word _gay_. I didn't know if it had to do with my parents' ability to insult the subject in such a casually condescending manner. Or if it was my friends' insensitivity regarding it. Whatever the case, I always found it difficult to associate with anything related to the word, the connotation, the meaning behind it. I knew from an early age that I was different. As cliché as it sounded. But there it goes – my life was full of clichés.

I always felt programmed differently. I suppose I never truly paid attention to the little things when I was younger. It wasn't until 11th grade that things slowly started to build up. Why I didn't want a boyfriend. Why I just wasn't interested in any of the boys in school (and saying that they were all fugly was kind of getting old). Why I constantly found myself staring at girls and no longer just for the innocent reason of admiring their outfits. Another excuse that was getting incredibly old.

Was she even – did she even –?

_Stop overanalyzing you idiot she just wants to talk to you_

Did she want me to call or text her? Why did she exclusively just say _call me_? Could she not text? Oh god how was I supposed to hold a conversation with her over the phone? I couldn't even speak to her in person without stumbling over my words.

I rolled onto my back, feeling anxiety flood me.

And how quickly did she expect the call? Certainly not after less than half an hour of seeing her? Desperate much?

I sighed, setting my phone down on my stomach. I chewed my lip, considering the pros and cons of my next decision.

After a few more agonizing minutes of careful deliberation, mostly consisting of blushing and self-deprecating comments and some more blushing, I decided to text her.

Texting was good. Texting was modern. Texting was going to work.

_It's going to work? Psh yeah look where that lead you the last time you said that._

I ignored the thought as best I could as I quickly created a new contact and typed in her number. I saved the number, sealing the deal, and opened a new message.

Demi Torres shown in bold black letters at the header of the message. And I couldn't help the happy smile that grew.

Now for the text…

I tried going for friendly with – _hello_. Then realized that might be too friendly borderline creeper status. Who says hello nowadays?

I tried casual – _hey_. What if she didn't like hey? What if it offends her? I groaned, deleting the message as something about hay being for horses flitted through my head.

So then I tried funny – _yo_, before I slapped my forehead in exasperation.

I then tried a few variations, all that seemed to lead to starting from scratch or accidentally almost sending them, having a heart attack and then sighing in relief as I realized the message had not went through. In the end, I settled for a simple _hi_, after stressing for another few minutes. And then promptly stressed even more as I realized I didn't even consider using a smiley face.

I buried my head into the nearest pillow groaning and kicking against the mattress. Why did I have to be such a freaking awkward turd all of the time?

Awkward turd or not, I _still_ had her number. With that thought, the smile crept its way back on my face as I ran a finger across the black numbers on my hand.

And that was when I was rudely interrupted for the second time that day, this time however, it wasn't in the form of my mother.

I was lost in my admiration when –

"What's got you smiling like an idiot?"

I scrambled to sit up, forgetting that I was wrapped in my sheets, and toppled over the side of my bed clumsily. My phone went flying across the carpeted floor, landing with a soft thud near the bookshelf.

I recognized the voice instantly, despite the fact that I hadn't heard it in nearly a week. Then again, how could one forget an irritating voice like his?

"Seriously Lena? You have about as much coordination as a thumb thumb." The voice then broke out into a chortle. An annoying one.

I huffed, finally untangling myself from the mess the sheets caused, and pulled myself up.

"You're here early." I snapped irritably as I looked towards my best friend Joe Gray. "I thought you were coming for dinner."

"Please tell me you didn't _just_ get out of bed Lena?" He questioned, biting back another round of laughter. I glared at him, as he continued to laugh. He ran a hand through his black hair (he usually kept it long…until I started making fun of him for straightening his hair), and adjusted the Ray Bans on his face. I bet they didn't even have a prescription in them; he never needed glasses. I wouldn't be surprised. He was always kind of a pretty boy, wearing the newest fashion style, getting his weekly haircut, clean-shaven. I remembered that year he tried to pierce his ears and Taylor (best friend number two) and I adamantly persuaded him not to. _Thank god_.

"I'll have you know that I've been very busy all day." I finally responded.

"You? Busy?"

"Yeah!"

"Doing what? Updating your glee fanfiction?"

My face flushed. I knew it was a mistake telling him about that. I shot him a sour look as I retrieved the sheets off of the floor and tossed them back on the bed. He grinned back impishly.

"Um no. That show is stupid."

"Says the girl who watches it every Thursday night."

"Ugh shut up."

He narrowed his already rather narrow brown eyes. I always said he reminded me of an elf. He had an elfish face. I think it was the eyebrows. He crossed his arms over his chest and cocked one of said thick eyebrows playfully. "Now is that the right way to treat your best friend you haven't seen in a while?"

I rolled my eyes. "And whose fault is that? Maybe if you came up for air from Taylor's face every once in a while we wouldn't be in this predicament."

It was Joe's turn to flush, though not as blatant as I did, I noticed grudgingly.

"Ha, ha, very funny." He muttered flatly. "But you still didn't answer my question."

"You didn't answer mine." I countered.

"Uh, wow, you didn't even ask a question."

"Uh, wow, you didn't even specify which question." I retaliated.

Joe scrunched his eyebrows, confused for a moment, walking backwards and plopping himself down on the floor. I realized that he was probably planning to stay. It had been an entire week since I had seen him, seen either of them. As much as he annoyed me it _was_ good to see him. But as much as I wanted to see him, there was no urge stronger than to kick him out of my room. He was interrupting my alone time. No not _that_ kind of alone time (_pervs_). But I would have preferred to continue to fret over Demi Torres's reply in privacy. And I dared not look at my phone under Joe's amused gaze.

God I could just picture his face if he ever found out about Demi. Well I could only imagine, basing off of the past. If the number of times he would make inappropriate and painfully awkward sexual jokes about his brother and I weren't a strong indication I didn't know what was. Not that his joking was ever justified. I wasn't interested in Nick Gray.

I eyed him from my slumped over position on the bed, secretly willing him to just leave. Christ, the one time he wasn't off gallivanting with Taylor, it had to be now….

Joe exhaled obnoxiously as he leaned back on a pair of jeans haphazardly thrown across the floor.

"So are you going to tell me why you're so happy?" He waved a hand, gesturing to me on the bed.

"I'm _not_ happy." I countered. I hurriedly lay over my hand, blocking his view of it. He didn't seem to notice anyway, too busy looking around my room. Nosy little asshole.

"_Well_," he dragged the word out importantly. "I know the only reason you'd be smiling at this hour," – it was 3 o clock – "is because you're on your computer, which you're not. So, something _must_ have happened."

"Nothing happened."

"Fine, don't tell me. I'm going to find out later anyway." I scowled at this. "On another note, your mother told me to come over earlier than planned to keep you company. Well to be more exact – and these are her words – _'Selena needs human contact I think she's going stir crazy. I'll pay you'_. So being the charitably good person that I am, I've decided _not_ to charge for my services."

"I'm not a charity case." I mumbled irritably.

"She says you've been _wallowing away_." He said air quoting the last two words.

"Go away." I muttered; I didn't initially intend for it to be rude, but the moment he smirked I regretted nothing.

"Doesn't look like you've been wallowing though." He leaned forward in his seat, as his eyes darted across my already reddening face. I coughed awkwardly, refusing to give my embarrassment away. There were things I couldn't stand. Admitting to Joe that he was right was one of them.

"Go away, _Joe_." I repeated, suddenly deflating.

"Ouch."

"Sorry." I wasn't really.

His lips twitched before a cheeky smile adorned his perfectly tanned face. I felt my own mouth twitch as I fought the urge to return the bright borderline insane grin he was flashing. So charming. One of his many talents. He always had a knack for annoying the crap out of me and still managed to make me laugh at the same time. But that was Joe for you. He was always the jokester, even when we were kids. He had a natural disregard for responsibility, which probably explained why he nixed applying to college, quit his job and devoted the majority of his time bumming around the beach with his surfboard. Well he used to, until he started dating Taylor.

"Why are you really here?" I questioned suspiciously. Joe gave me a mock-hurt look.

"Am I not allowed to spend time with my lovely best friend?"

He was doing it again – the _charming_. I forgot this was the reason I preferred Nick over him.

I could feel another oncoming smile, before I broke his challenging gaze. "You can. But you usually have an ulterior motive for doing so."

He opened his mouth, but was interrupted by the sudden buzzing sound of my phone on the floor. My heart pounded heavily, as my eyes excitedly darted towards the phone. However I quickly hid the excitement, at the curious look Joe was giving me.

"You going to get that?"

"Uh, nah." I said dismissively. "So uh yeah ulterior motive?" I hastily tried changing the subject. I think Joe could tell because he was staring at me and the phone suspiciously. It didn't last long though. Joe's eyebrows furrowed as he cleared his throat. It caught my attention, as did the suddenly dropping atmosphere.

"Uh, I talked to Nick…" He trailed off uncertainly, brown eyes darting back to me nervously. And it all started to make sense as to why he was here now – instead of at Taylor's.

"No." I snapped, rolling over and burying my face in the nearest pillow. Maybe if I'd hold it hard enough. I would suffocate. My friendship (or lack of one) with Nick Gray was a touchy subject. One that I clearly didn't want to discuss, much to Joe's obliviousness.

I felt Joe tug my shoulders.

"Lena, come on, he looks so miserable."

I felt my stomach lurch at Joe's words. It wasn't that I didn't want to be friends with Nick, I just didn't know how. And I couldn't easily tell Joe, his own brother, the reason behind our broken friendship if he hadn't told him himself. I wasn't going to pry. I felt bad enough as it is.

"It's complicated." I finally muttered in a low voice.

Joe gave me another suspicious look, before sighing softly.

He didn't stay long afterwards, despite the fact that he and his family were coming over for dinner. I just assumed he was going to skip out on dinner. It kind of irritated me how quickly he jumped from his seat when he got a text from Taylor. The irritation was short-lived however, when I remembered my phone on the floor.

I scrambled to pick it up, anxiously unlocked the password, and deflated when I realized it was only Taylor.

_T: Busy tomorrow?_

I debated whether saying yes just to spite her. But decided not to. As much as they both were beginning to irritate me with their relationship I wasn't mean enough to do that. With a sigh, I began typing out a reply when all of a sudden another text came in. And was it – OH MY GOD IT WAS.

My face flushed as I hurriedly opened the message, only for my smile to drop…and then my heart…and then my stomach.

_D: Hey…uhh..who is this?_

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**A/N: ****I try to make it a point to reply to everyone who's reviewed. For the anons:**

_**Guest**: Wow number one fan? Thank you I am honored :)_

_**Guest:** Hahaha I think we all may have a bit of Selena in us_

_**Breadcrumbs:** I don't think you'll have to worry about that :) thank you for the review!_

**And I've privately messaged the rest. I'll try to update as soon as I can. Thanks for reading!**


	3. It was enchanting to meet you

**I'm so sorry. I meant to upload this a lot sooner, but I may or may not have accidentally lost the majority of the chapter ...and I may or may not have had to start all over and I may or may not have gotten so frustrated and annoyed every time I opened up the document and saw all the progress lost... yeah.**

**Apologies for any typos.**

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**Chapter 3: It was enchanting to meet you**

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_**D:**__ Hey…uhh..who is this?_

It felt like my whole world had just crashed down. And no I was not being dramatic…okay perhaps I was being a little dramatic but this particular moment called for dramatics! I hadn't seen this girl for more than an hour and she didn't know who this was? Did she forget that she _happened_ to write her freaking number on a stranger's hand?!

It made me wonder if I was the only one that this had happened to. Or did she have more people she carelessly gave her personal cell phone number to and I was just one of many?

God I knew this was too good to be true. Never trust a cute girl to write her number on your body. It never turns out the way you want it to.

I sank back into my bed, seriously considering the whole pillow suffocating plan again when my phone buzzed for the third time. It was her.

I was already so depressed over her reply I wasn't sure I could handle any more of her indirect rejection. I opened it anyway, against my better judgment because hello, it was Demi Torres.

_**D:**__ …this is Selena Russo right? Just making sure before I make an even bigger fool out of myself lol_

_She knows my last name?_

_Oh my god SHE KNOWS MY LAST NAME OH BE STILL MY BEATING HEART_

The grin – the stupid, stupid grin spread across my face before I could process anything more. My face felt hot as I fumbled with my phone and reread the recent text message. She knew my name. She knew my freaking full name! How was that even possible?

I was more than positive that I faded into the background in class. In fact I made sure I did a good job with the fading. How could she manage to know my last name, or even recognize me at all?

I chewed my lip, attempting to prevent the smile from growing as I typed a reply with trembling fingers.

_**S:**__ Yes lol_

And then another one came in immediately.

_**D:**__ oh okay cool haha _

_**D:**__ So what are you up to?_

I stared down at the text message for a moment, probably longer than necessary. Was this really happening? Were we really going to fall into an easy conversation as if the fact that I had bumped into her at the grocery store wasn't weird at all?

_Wow, um it's not weird at all. You're just making things weird you weirdo!_

_**S:**__ Nothing much_

I hesitated trying to think of a valid elaboration of _nothing much_. Squirming about like an idiot over the girl didn't even come close to valid.

_**S:**__ I had a friend over :/ _

I sent it before I could even begin my fit of stressing.

_**D:**__ why the :/ face?_

And immediately I regretted doing something so impulsive.

_**S:**__ It was't a very welcome visit_

_**S:**__ *wasn't_

_**S:**__ He's kind of annoying_

Was that too critical? God I sounded like a total lousy friend.

_**D:**__ Nah I get it sometimes my friends get on my nerves too_

_**D:**__ btw I'm sorry if I'm bothering you Selena_

Oh jesus just seeing my name in that text was doing things to me.

_**D:**__ I don't usually give out my number at supermarkets_

_**D:**__ I just don't want you to think I'm a total weirdo or anything_

_**S:**__ no I don't lol_

_**D:**__ are you sure? You kind of looked like I freaked you out_

_**S:**__ no hahaha no you didn't freak me out_

Total. Complete. Lie.

_**D:**__ oh that's good lol :)_

My heart skipped a beat at the smiley face. She put a freaking smiley face. Colon and parenthesis. It was kind of ridiculous how I felt in near complete bliss over a text message. No, over a stupid face. I tried to pretend that she spent a significant amount of time debating over which one to use. Fantasies… The rational side of me knew she probably habitually sent faces in her texts.

_But what if she didn't?_

I was so caught up over the stupid face that I didn't realize the finality of her message: _'oh that's good'_.

What did that mean? Good as in _genuinely good_? Good as in _goodbye I have nothing more to say to you, you strange human_? Or good _keep talking_? What if I came off as annoying?

_Stop stressing out so much over a freaking text message Selena!_

I drew in a deep breath and began typing a reply. Or at least trying to formulate an open window to continue this conversation. I didn't get that far into typing when my phone began buzzing and the screen changed abruptly to: _Taylor Swift_ calling. I groaned, sliding the call button.

"Selena!"

"Yes." I sighed. There was a short pause.

"Oh, er is this a bad time?" Taylor questioned curiously.

I resisted the urge to sigh again. "No what's up?

"You didn't reply back and – _Joe seriously stop_!" Taylor half laughed and half scolded on the other line. I could faintly hear Joe cackling in the background. My assumptions of his whereabouts were on point. As usual. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes but then realized she couldn't see my face so I rolled them anyway. "Um, I was hoping you'd want to come over tomorrow – _Joseph_!"

I sighed loudly through my nose. "That's fine Taylor."

"'Kay, 'kay, I'll see you tomorrow! Say bye Joe -"

"-bye Lena, don't wear yourself too much with all that blogging and fanfiction." Joe mocked on the other line. I heard vague signs of Taylor scolding Joe before the line went dead.

My mood dropped almost instantly after the call. It was incredible how easily the two of them managed to do that lately. Seriously they should win some kind of award for this.

I slumped back into bed, feeling my face form into a scowl over it all. The scowl wasn't permanent, especially after I felt my phone buzz and saw another text from Demi.

_**D:**__ So anyway, what are your plans tomorrow if you don't mind me asking?_

I wasn't sure if I was relieved that I had plans with Taylor tomorrow or annoyed.

_**S:**__ I'm going over a friends house_

_**D:**__ the annoying one? ;) jk_

I felt my face flush and the stupid grin form on my face again. Jesus Christ, this girl was seriously going to kill me.

_**S:**__ No lol not the annoying one_

_**D:**__ I figured… so what about Friday?_

_**S:**__ I'm free Friday_

_**D:**__ Cool we'll go out for frozen yogurt_

_**D:**__ I mean…unless you prefer ice cream?_

_**D:**__ jesus I didn't ask if you even wanted to hang out I'm an idiot_

_**S:**__ No lol Friday sounds good_

_**D:**__ cool! I'll see you then! ;) _

_**S:**__ okay :)_

Selena what the actual fuck?

I couldn't even begin to process what just happened in the span of ten minutes. I went from never speaking to Demi Torres to going on a fucking ice cream date with Demi Torres. Date. _Date_.

Was that even the appropriate term to use in this situation?

This sounded an awful lot like a _date_. I mean wasn't this what happened in movies all of the freaking time? You run into your future significant other at a coffee shop…or in this case the local supermarket. You share a few words, numbers get exchanged, and then you go on dates. Or was I completely misinterpreting every clichéd, cheesy rom-com movies I'd ever seen?

And wasn't the ice cream shop (Yogurtland..whatever) like the prime hot spot for coupledom?

This was suddenly moving _way_ too fast. This was becoming too overwhelming.

_Rational-Selena_ knew exactly was going on, however. _Rational-Selena_ knew it was going to be okay. She knew everything would work out. It was just a little get together. Just ice cream. It wasn't like I was expected to show up and declare my undying love for the girl. This was a walk in the park. Piece of cake. _Rational-Selena_ could take this!

Unfortunately _Rational-Selena_ was reduced into a thick pile of mush after Demi sent an early goodnight text signed with another goddamn smiley face.

.

.

The next day, as I prepared for my visit to Taylor's, I still worried over my eager response to Demi. She wanted to hang out with me…so soon? I wasn't sure if I was severely anticipating this friendly date or completely dreading it. What would I wear? Certainly not that ridiculous get up she caught me in during our previous encounter. _And I would make sure to shave my goddamn legs._

I stressed over it the entire time and I didn't even realize I was already parked outside Taylor's house. I sighed placing my hands on the wheel for a moment, contemplating banging my head against it. I chose not to, the first logical decision I felt I made over the past twenty-four hours, as I scrambled out of the car and made my way to the porch.

I knocked a few times, and then heard quick footsteps on the other side. The door had barely opened before I was engulfed in a tight hug. The smell of vanilla gave away the person, as did the excited little squeal that erupted from her lips.

"Hi Selena!" Taylor exclaimed happily, before I had the chance to greet her back. "Oh, how nice of you to drop by!"

"You're the one that told me to come." I muttered pointedly as she pulled away and smiled down at me cheerfully. I was almost convinced she would grow a tail and start wagging it.

"Still it's nice to see you." She replied, leveling her gaze with mine. I was tempted to respond with a snide remark. Maybe even an insult along with the comment. But as quickly as the temptation came it faded away. This was Taylor, sweet Taylor, the opposite of her nuisance of a boyfriend, Joe.

I sighed, lifting my lips into a convincing smile. It must have worked because her blue eyes brightened significantly.

"Come on, come on, I've got cookies in the oven."

I felt my own mouth suddenly crave the baked goods over my better judgment as I walked in after her. I saw Taylor's mom watching T.V and waved a brief hi, before I was whisked into the kitchen.

"Soooo, Selena," Taylor drew out her speech, before pausing dramatically. "How's life?"

She looked over her shoulder as she pulled the cookie sheet out. I felt the heat of the oven beat against my face for a moment and then she closed the door. Slightly distracted by the cookies, I mumbled out a halfhearted, "Okay."

"What do you mean just _okay_?" She probed curiously. I continued to watch as she peeled the cookies off the sheet and left them to dry on a decorative plate.

"Uh, yeah I mean fine."

She looked so genuinely happy to see me, which made me feel even more like shit over being annoyed with her. How could you ever be annoyed with Taylor Swift when she was giving you that smile and thrusting warm cookies in your face?

I sighed sheepishly, grabbing a cookie off the plate and she watched with rapt attention as I took a bite. Any minute now that tail was going to poke out of her daisy dukes again.

"Delicious." I mumbled through the gooey chocolate. She threw her head back dramatically and laughed, dragging me up the stairs to her room.

Taylor's room probably fulfilled every cliché, every stereotype, every description for the "typical teenage girl". Light blue painted walls. Pictures of cats on her wall. Her teen heartthrobs ripped out of magazines and pinned up. She had a collage of pictures taped above the head of her bed. Pictures of Joe, Taylor, Nick, me. The good old days. My eyes landed on a picture of just Nick and I. We were in line for a roller coaster at the local fair. I was smiling happily into the camera, making bunny ears at the top of his curly head. He was smiling too, but he wasn't looking at the camera.

I cleared my throat, feeling uncomfortable at the memories staring back at me.

I stepped away, instead sinking into her neat and tidy bed.

Taylor was too busy rummaging through her desk and filling me in on the latest celebrity gossip, to notice my staring.

"I wrote a new song. You want to hear it?"

I forced a smile as she brought out her guitar. It wasn't that I didn't like her singing or anything. It just seemed that lately everything that came out of her mouth was –

"_Joe_ and I worked on this together." She smiled coyly, but then it faded immediately. "Maybe I should wait, so he can be here to help me."

I would have rather gouged my own eyes out. Yikes. Back with the dramatics. Well for what it was worth it was partially true. More things I could definitely live without: being the third wheel.

I knew, perhaps I was being a bit too critical of their relationship. I just didn't understand it. I knew whenever Taylor got into a relationship, anything and everything of it was the center of her attention. It wasn't entirely her fault for getting so deep into her boy toys. She was just passionate about things I guess. This current thing being, none other than, Joe fucking Gray.

Taylor was just – I mean where do I even begin to describe _Taylor Swift_?

She was probably the most magickal person I had ever met (yeah with a K). Creative. Glittery. Typical all American kind of girl, with the curly blonde hair, denim vests, baby doll dresses, cowboy boots, and _a smile that could light up this whole town_. She was the overplayed, cheesy love song on the radios that you hated to love, but loved anyway. Because despite your negativity and how you claim you don't believe in love, a small part of you will always hope. She was basically that living embodiment. She was a dreamer, yet she _always_ knew what she wanted. I envied that about her – actually I envied that about a lot of people.

Taylor was a stellar opposite of her boyfriend. Joe never took himself or anyone so seriously. He was the laid back, goofy idiot that could never decide on anything. I suppose that was what _we_ had in common – we'd flip flop all over the freaking place. Not that his sexuality was a flip-floppy as mine (he used to be one of the biggest manwhores I knew).

If I was being completely honest, I guess I never really put much effort into trying to understand their sudden relationship. And maybe I was still a tiny bit hurt over them keeping it a secret from me for months. It wasn't until around the time of their senior prom that they finally dropped the bomb on me – of course Nick already knew. Which bothered me even more. Because we were such a close-knit group – the four of us.

I knew the Grays the majority of my childhood. We instantly became friends the moment their family Chihuahua attacked me and Kevin, the eldest brother, rescued me from that little monster. I was seven.

I met Taylor a little later, in sixth grade. One day during class she complimented my glittery folder (a folder my mother had bought when I _specifically_ told her I wanted the puppy one), and we hit it off since then.

I never would have expected Taylor and Joe as an item. Never. Once high school hit, they didn't show any particular signs of interest in one another. And they certainly didn't share common hobbies. While Taylor was baking cupcakes and decorating her locker, Joe was out partying and playing hooky. If anything people expected Nick and I to –

"Gosh, you look so much older Selena." Taylor exclaimed plopping on her bed beside me.

"Taylor you literally saw me like last week." I muttered flatly. She giggled, nudging me in the ribs playfully.

"I don't know you've got like this kind of _enlightened_ look to you. You look different."

"Enlightened?"

"Anyway, where have you been this whole week? I missed you." She said, completely dropping the previous subject.

What I really wanted to say was: _"Avoiding your gross PDA and fluffy couple aura that makes me want to gag." _But I ended up just saying: "Home."

"Joe says you've been _wallowing away."_

Seriously, I was sure by the time I got home everybody in this fucking town would start saying that every time they looked at me. Taylor must have seen the irritated expression on my face because she smiled sheepishly.

"I didn't believe him of course." She added quickly. "I just, I don't know, I'm worried about you Selena. I mean I know Joe and I being together kind of took you by surprise. I totally get why you won't hang out with us, but I mean we're still your friends."

God, she had a knack for making me feel like the worst friend ever. Joking. Again, it wasn't her fault.

"I know. I'm sorry." I murmured, chagrined.

"And then with everything that's happened between you and Nick…"

And just like that, the guilty feeling disappeared and a sudden sense of frustration replaced it.

"-Is this why you called me over? To talk about this?" I interrupted rudely.

"I just – I mean – I figured you might want to talk about the whole Nick thing." She started apprehensively.

"No, no when did I ever give you the slightest inclination I wanted to-"

"-when was the last time you've even spoken to him? He looks so sad-"

"Taylor! No, we are seriously not going to talk about Nick right now!"

She relented, shrinking away from me, which made me feel like even more crap. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt Taylor. I hated seeing her upset, and what killed me was being the cause of it.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed." Taylor mumbled quietly.

She stayed quiet for the majority of my visit, only making a few comments here and there while I uncharacteristically lead the conversations. I was running out of things to talk about, almost resorting to the whole Demi subject. But I wasn't sure I would be able to keep a cool face during _that_ possible conversation. And besides she didn't _need_ to know about that. Not even Taylor knew of my ridiculous crush on Demi Torres.

Her dispirited mood still worried me, even as I left the blonde and drove home a couple of hours later. It wasn't like her to brood, even if I did upset her. She'd usually just bounce right back up.

It made me wonder why exactly she even invited me to her house. My suspicions of Joe conspiring with her about trying to rekindle my friendship with Nick _did_ occur to me. But for some weird reason I got the sense that this was more than _just_ that. And I didn't know why, but I got the eerie feeling that there was something Taylor wasn't telling me.

.

.

**A/N: I know this is progressing rather slowly...but I promise it'll pick up soon. For the most part, the introductions are out of the way. Demena next chapter for sure.**

**Anons:**

_**Guest: **Hahaha yes high school. Four years of embarrassing, cringe-worthy things we all did in regard to our crushes lol. I know the chapters are pretty short. I'm still trying to find a good pace at the moment. But for now...I'm sorry they're so short. Thank you for reading and reviewing :D_


	4. Conceal, Don't Feel, Don't let them know

**Sorry for the long A/N. Responding to reviews because I hadn't had a chance to do it yet. **

**.**

_**Suefanficlover:** Hahaha it seems like she is doesn't it :) Thank you so much for reading! :D_

_**Tomatoes:** Awwww wow thank you so much! Character progression is important…but I'm trying not to be too slow you know_

_**Guest:** Hahahahahaa yess exactly! I know I would get like that too around my past crushes. So embarrassing. Haha yes! Thanks for noticing that. I'm trying to put a few real-life qualities into their characters. Idk …more of the side plots will unfold later on :)_

_**WalkinOnTheCityLights:** Thank you :)_

_**manhattanpizza:** Hahaha are you sure about that?_

_**vivi199898**: Wooo I'm glad you are :D_

_**Guest:** Thank you so much! I'll try to have the next chapter up soon_

_..._

**Apologies for any typos **

* * *

**Chapter 4: Conceal, Don't Feel, Don't let them know, Yes I'm quoting Frozen shhhh**

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**.**

Friday came much too quickly for my taste. I didn't have the proper time to spend thinking about Taylor because the majority of it was spent anxiously scavenging my wardrobe. Or I did. But unfortunately for me I had the absurdly annoying ability to procrastinate on even the most simplest of tasks. In this case, picking out what I was going to wear an hour before meeting up with Demi.

I had never worried so much over an outfit in my entire life – well so far. Nothing was working. Absolutely nothing. Everything in that god forsaken closet was completely inadequate and full of sweaters that I wouldn't be able to touch until months from now. I scowled at the closet, cursing my illogical self and reasoning that invested the majority of its wardrobe to winter wear. I mean what kind of idiot spends all of their shopping money on boots and hoodies when the temperature hardly ever fell below 50 degrees? In the middle of December.

I huffed, throwing what felt like the hundredth unruly top over my head. It didn't help that I had absolutely no confidence whatsoever when it came to fashion. The mirror made its opinion of me blatantly obvious. Chubby face. Shapeless stick with only her boobs going for her – that was if I wore a pushup bra (even then it wasn't much of a significant asset, considering the lack of symmetry between them). And a mane of hair that would never wave the way I wanted it to, choosing instead to flop in my face.

I didn't even know why I bothered. It wasn't like Demi was going to reciprocate my drooling if she were to see me. I bet she would be poised, calm, cool and collected. The way I wished I would be. She'd probably wear the latest style. Hell she could look like a hobo and still look insanely good.

When I did finally settle for a semi decent outfit, I was unhappy. Miserably so. I fiddled with the ends of the collared blouse and surveyed myself in the mirror for what felt like the billionth time. The sullen girl stared back at me, pulling at the bottom of her denim shorts. Her expression clearly reading: _what the hell are you getting yourself into you dumbass?._

I sighed, tiredly responding with a withering glare. I ran a hand through my hair, reaching for my purse and heading out the door. I carefully planned my escape, darting for the keys on the counter before my mom so much as had time to question me. I didn't think I could handle explaining to her why I was dressed up in more than my PJ's with a straight face.

.

.

We decided that we'd meet up at the nearest _Yogurtland_ around four. After pulling up into the parking lot, I kind of regretted agreeing to that. It was packed with cars and pedestrians, occasionally hollering at the other to get out of the way. I was five minutes late by the time I found a parking spot at the back of the lot (not that I was checking the time every 30 seconds).

And I was already flushed as I reached the entrance of the yogurt place. I wiped forehead quickly, trying to look as if I didn't run here (which I didn't but leave it to me to make the walk between my car to the entrance door a troubling sweaty feat, but to be fair the weather was kind of sweltering). I yanked the heavy door open, feeling the AC blast me with cool air and then promptly messing up my hair. Not that it mattered anyway, I kind of gave up on trying to tame it.

My eyes scanned the building, darting over the random people, kids with yogurt dribbling down their chins, other fellow teenagers piling yogurt after yogurt in their cups and employees watching them with narrowed eyes. Finally my gaze fell upon the person I was looking for. Demi was sitting at a corner table, head bent down over her phone, chin resting on the top of her water bottle.

I swallowed thickly

I straightened up and tried to make my stride casual after being consciously aware of how stupid I looked. I glanced around, only to find no one paying attention to my fumbling, and then proceeded to feel even more stupid than before.

Demi hadn't noticed my presence, nose still buried in her phone, even when I was standing awkwardly over the table. I opened my mouth, on the verge of greeting her when she lifted her head. Immediately her pale face broke out into a wide grin. A noticeably larger one than the one that she gave at the supermarket.

"Hey," she waved, sounding as if I told her Christmas was tomorrow. My stomach churned pleasantly at her expression. So warm. So comforting. So welcoming.

"Hi." I murmured shyly, internally scolding myself for not meeting her eyes.

"You look nice." Demi commented, the small smile still intact as her eyes looked me up and down. If it were possible, I would have more than likely melted into the linoleum floor.

"T-thanks." I blushed. Great Selena, you idiot. "You too. I mean, like, not that you didn't before because you did, I mean, like, um yeah." I frowned, clearly annoyed with myself and that unnecessary ramble. Thankfully Demi didn't feel that way or at least she didn't show it because she let out a short giggle.

"Thank you." She replied genuinely. It hurt how sincere she sounded, as if I gave her a million dollar compliment, instead of shitty, fumbling attempt of one. _Oh god how the hell am I going to last the rest of this date thing? _"I'm not much of a dress fan to be honest. But sometimes the weather calls for it right?" She laughed shortly, tossing a few locks of brown hair over her shoulder. I glanced down at her short, loose army green dress, trying not to get too distracted by the length. At this point I would have agreed with anything she said. And maybe I was swooning a little over the fact that she chose to wear sneakers instead of heels with the outfit.

"Oh, um sure."

She stood up, stretching. I watched as subtly as I could as the wrinkles of her denim jacket straightened at her elbows where they were rolled up.

"Shall we?" She asked with a smile, gesturing towards the yogurt machines. I flushed when the little curve formed at the corner of her mouth. Jesus Christ. I flushed, nodding stupidly. Her lips quirked, looking as if she wanted to laugh again. She didn't, instead walking over to the machines. I followed her, trying not to stumble over my feet.

Demi made the conversation. While it seemed as if I could only do the basic functions of nodding my head, or murmuring a quiet agreement. She talked casually, as if this were the normal thing to do. As if we were old friends who were just getting yogurt after a long day of shopping.

She moved to grab a few sample cups. I watched, amused. I was sure that dopey, besotted expression was evident as I continued to admire her spend the next minutes tasting the flavors over and over again.

She looked up from her slurping a tiny cup of a coffee flavored one, giving me an adorably puzzled expression.

"You going to get some? Or are you going to stare at me all day?" She smiled, tossing the cup into the bin and moving on to the next flavor.

"Oh, er, right." I moved to grab a cup, copying her actions. Finally she had settled for some extravagant fruity flavor with detailed toppings that just screamed an overdose of sugar, while I, on the other hand settled for a small cup of vanilla. I was hoping she wouldn't have noticed. Hoping that she would keep the conversation going on about what she was talking about – which happened to be school. Of course nothing ever worked in my favor.

"You have all of these flavors in front of you and you get vanilla?" She questioned incredulously as we waited in line to weigh the cups. I stared down at my own, feeling embarrassed at my pathetic cup, almost tempted to hide it from her sight. I didn't have the heart to tell her I wasn't much of a yogurt fan. But after a moment, her expression softened.

"You know, it's nice." Demi muttered, setting her yogurt monster on the scale. "It's like the foundation of flavors. I think people forget that vanilla goes well with everything."

Her warm, brown eyes twinkled as she said that, smile slowly dipping back into place. I felt my stomach flip and my face heat up. Shit she was deep. I mean I knew Demi Torres was never a stupid girl. I just never expected this.

_I was in deep shit. Shit shit shit._

The cashier read her total. "No, I'm paying for both." She grabbed my small cup, before I had time to react, and placed it on the scale.

"Demi," I mumbled, briefly startling myself with how effortless the name rolled off my tongue. "I can – you don't have to…"

"I'm the one that invited you. _My_ treat." She said with a tone of finality and swiping her card. I had no say. Or I didn't have the guts to have a say. She handed me back the yogurt and we made our way back to the table. Unfortunately we didn't do so as gracefully as I intended. Not that I was expecting a graceful arrival. Demi's shoe got caught on the leg of a chair and she stumbled into the table, grabbing my arm in a false sense of support (because really, I was pretty sure I was the clumsiest idiot that ever walked the face of the earth) and tugged me down with her. I tripped into her back, squishing her against the edge of the surface, and getting a face full of brown hair. I couldn't help it – no seriously I couldn't help inhaling. Where was I supposed to breathe? Something fruity filtered through my nose. Some kind of wondrous sweet scent invaded my senses in a glorious manner, causing a drunken dizzying spell to fall over me.

I moved away shakily, my nose still filled with the memory of the smell and thoughts of something about Adam and Eve and the devil's apple occupying my sluggish mind.

"Oh crap. I'm sorry Selena." Demi's voice pulled me away from my stupor. "I didn't hurt you did I?"

"I was the one that practically turned you into a pancake and you're asking me if I'm hurt?" I questioned glumly, after I had noticed I got some of my yogurt on the back of her jacket. "I'm sorry!" I stammered, as she finally noticed.

"Don't worry about it."

"But-"

"Selena, it's totally fine." She reassured, stripping the jacket off. "It was my fault." She draped it over the back of an empty chair. She wiped the yogurt off with a napkin. "I'm not exactly the most coordinated person ever. It tends to act up when I'm really nervous." She muttered, rubbing her cheek uneasily. She was nervous? "Believe it or not, meeting new people terrifies me."

I wanted to ask her about it. I wanted to know what the hell was going on. Why would she say something as suggestive as that? I made her nervous because she wasn't a people person? It didn't make any sense. She was popular. I mean, she talked to everyone with ease that even made me jealous.

I wanted to press further, but one look at her embarrassed smile and I chickened out.

Instead, I sat on chair, as she did the same with another.

We fell back into easy conversation again, or at least she did, occasionally pausing to eat some of her yogurt. The fumble only put me about five steps back in the whole talking department with her. My face was still burning, as I was constantly reminded of how I was so pressed up against her for those splits seconds.

_God you are such an idiot Selena why can't you watch where you're going?_

_She's the one that grabbed me!_

_Yeah but if you didn't have two fucking left feet you would have held your balance. Now look what happened! You ruined her jacket._

I sighed miserably without realizing how loud I was. Demi's eyes darted to my face immediately at the sound.

"Selena, _really_ it's okay. It's not even my jacket. I borrowed it from Miley."

_Miley Stewart._ Another girl I went to high school with. Presumably Demi's best friend.

That only made me feel worse, which she realized instantly.

"I mean to say, Miley totally ruined a pair of my favorite heels before so just think of it all as karma."

"What happened?" I questioned tentatively. She jumped on my question.

"She threw up on them, while simultaneously breaking one of the heels." Demi mumbled sullenly. "I'm still in the process of forgiveness as we speak." She smirked. I let out an involuntary laugh, surprising myself for the second time, with how effortless it just came out. How easy it felt because it for the first time being around her, it felt natural.

Demi's gaze softened, and my stomach flipped at the sight. My laughter stopped immediately, as I rushed out a hurried apology.

"You're apologizing for laughing?"

"No – yes – but no – I mean sorry for your shoes." I could have slapped myself with how stupid I sounded. She waved a dismissive hand at the comment.

"They're just shoes. If it were my guitar I'm sure I would've killed her already."She smiled at me again, gently this time.

I wanted to make a clever comment. Maybe something about Taylor owning a guitar and music and all that jazz. But I felt the words die in my throat. Just as quickly as that natural feeling came, it went away, as I suddenly became aware of the fact that I was sitting in _Yogurtland_ with _Demi Torres _eating yogurt. Was this real life?

The uncomfortable spell fell over me again. And the awkwardness just came back full force. I coughed nervously, looking at anything besides the girl sitting across from me. My face flushed, forcing my eyes to settle on her cup of yogurt. It was already melting and she wasn't even halfway done with it. I kind of felt bad because I knew she spent the majority of her time filling in the conversation bubble between us.

Demi's hands came into view, as she cupped her yogurt.

My eyes traced over her fingers, taking in the chipped purple nail polish against the bright neon color of the yogurt cup. I glanced down her fingers, towards her knuckle when something caught me off guard. Something I hadn't expected in a million years from her. Then again, why wouldn't I, it wasn't like I knew Demi Torres. But there was no mistaking it. It was there. Blatantly shining. Making its presence known. It was –

"Yes, it's a purity ring." Demi laughed, moving her hands together and twirling the offending piece around her finger.

"Oh, I wasn't…" I started, still staring at the band on her finger.

"Don't be fooled by it though." She continued, ignoring my blubbering apologies. "I only wear it so my mom doesn't freak out."

I didn't ask, despite the burning curiosity. Did that mean she wasn't a virgin? Not that that was a bad thing. But I mean how could she be? She was so cool, and beautiful, so ethereal. She looked like a girl who was so sure of herself. Who knew what she wanted. Who probably dominated the other person in the bedroom. I blushed heavily, looking way from Demi's eyes. _Think of something else you perv._

"How's your ice cream – I mean yogurt?" I stammered out nervously, digging my own spoon into the frozen treat angrily at my inability to make anything coherent.

"Good. Why? You want a bite?" She put the spoon near my mouth before I gave an answer…or recovered from her sudden question.

"N-no thank you." I moved back in my seat. She giggled, as I tried to make sense of the recent discovery. I wracked my brain, trying to remember if I'd seen her wearing it back at the grocery store. Why did I even care so much anyway? It wasn't a big deal. It wasn't like I was going to try seducing her or anything. _Jesus fucking Christ Selena._

I didn't have much time mentally berating herself because Demi spoke, grabbing my attention in an instant.

"Selena, um, I, uh, I wanted to ask you something." She started nervously.

Crap. I started freaking out. What if she asked me something personal? What if it was something couldn't answer? What if she was asking you out? (wishful thinking).

"Okay." I muttered awkwardly. She furrowed her eyebrows, pushing her yogurt away. Her laced her fingers with each other and swallowed thickly. I wasn't sure if my eyes were deceiving me or if she was actually blushing. Freckled blushing skin. _God keep a fucking straight face Selena don't you dare fucking start smiling like an idiot!_

"Sorry, I just, um, I don't know how to say this." Demi laughed uneasily, glancing up at me. "It's just – I mean – I'm having a great time now and I don't want you to think I'm not or that I'm hanging out with you for any incentives." She ran a hand through her hair.

My heart started pounding heavily.

"You're really cool Selena. Um, and I like you a lot. I just, um, I wanted to know if…" She paused for a moment, staring at me uncertainly. I felt my blood boil. I didn't know what the hell was going on. Was this seriously happening? Was she about to say what I think she's about to say?

"If?" Yet another thing said out of my better judgment. The next thing that happened, happened so fast I wasn't sure if what happened really, well, _happened_.

"If you could do this huge, huge, huge favor for me. I'm sorry I really, really hate to be the person to ask. I told them I didn't want to ask but we really – I mean at this point we're just so desperate."

"What?" I still wasn't sure what exactly was going on as I stared at her pleading face.

"Oh, right um, so I'm kind of in this band. I mean it's not really a band. Not officially that is. All we do is practice in Miley's garage a couple of weekends, well when her mom isn't totally being a – you know. Anyway, we finally got like a gig next week at a house party and – um – our drummer Anna – you know Anna right? – yeah she can't make it and I really wanted to see if anyone can fill in for her…" She muttered apologetically. She did look it and slightly embarrassed.

"I don't know how to play the drums." I started numbly.

"No." She stated quietly, looking at me with hopeful brown eyes." But…Nick…?" The name hung in the air dryly.

Instantly her hopeful expression fell. "I'm so sorry I shouldn't – it's just that – I mean I knew you and Nick were friends – I thought I could just ask you – I'm sorry never mind forget it." Demi sputtered unnaturally. Actually I wasn't sure if her sputtering was unusual, but this was the first time I had ever seen her nervous, much less close up.

I wondered initially what made her react the way she did. Like Taylor, Joe, my family. The people I intimately knew. Was it that easy to see it on my face that Nick was a sore subject?

"It's okay." I muttered in the same vague tone. "It's okay, I'll ask him."

I had made the decision the second the request had came out of her mouth.

"You will?" She asked happily. I nodded my head robotically.

It all started making sense. Why she was so eager to give me her number. Why we were even hanging out the first place right now. Why she wasted her time making me feel nice. She just wanted me to put in a good word to Nick. She wanted Nick and used me to get to him.

Suddenly the yogurt felt like lead in my stomach.

I didn't think I'd ever felt more like crap in my life. Another exaggeration. But I was too bummed to even correct myself.

"Thank you so much Selena, I owe you one!"

Yeah. A big one.

.


End file.
